Robbie and I met at Central College. Central has deep Dutch roots and, in fact, doesn't even have a real mascot. They are simply known as the Central Dutch. Seriously. After we began dating, Robbie took me back to Chicago to meet his family and friends. I will never forget going to church on Sunday and meeting Mrs. Meekma. She came up to me, gave me a big hug, and said, "I knew it! I told Robbie he would come back from college with a little blonde-haired Dutch girl!!" She was so excited! Later that night Robbie explained to me, two of their family's best friends are the Smit and Meekma families. Both are, you guessed it, Dutch. So there is a bit of playful animosity towards Dutch people in the Tanzer family and during many of our early years dating I heard Dutch jokes and was kidded about potentially "diluting" their gene pool. Yet, I always tease Robbie back that at least I know what I (mostly) am - I'm not as much of a mutt as he is. Three out of my four grandparents were 100% Dutch.
I remember as a little girl sitting at the table in my grandparents' dining room on Sundays looking at the blue and white delft plates in my grandma's china cabinet. They were always there, proudly displayed. Years later Robbie and I went with some friends to Europe and got to see delft painted dishes and wooden shoes in my homeland. On the train to Amsterdam the man checking our passports took one look at my last name (Rozendaal) and said "Welcome home!". There is actually a small town in the Netherlands called Rozendaal which means "Valley of the Roses" and Annabelle's middle name was picked in honor of my former last name.
So now, when I see anything in blue and white delft, I think about my grandparents. Grandma's long letters and phone conversations in Dutch to far-away relatives, Grandpa singing us Dutch songs and trying to teach us Dutch tongues twisters (there was one about eight stoves?), their wooden shoe they used as a door stopper, and times they would speak in Dutch so we wouldn't be able to listen in on their conversation. All my history, who I am is tied to me being Dutch. So I am proud of my Dutch roots, not because of that whole "If you ain't Dutch, you ain't much" saying, I've never really gotten into that, but because I think there's something to be said about having a history. It's something that ties one generation to the next. For me it's as though my grandparents are gone but not forgotten and I think that's really special.
When Robbie and I were planning our wedding ceremony we asked our grandfathers to pick out a few verses to be read at our wedding. Just two days before my grandfather had a heart attack and stroke, he picked out two verses to be read at our wedding. He told my aunt Joy the ones he wanted read and I will forever be glad he did. The first one was the "wives submit to your husbands" verse (which Robbie loved), and the second was this:
"Son's are a heritage from the Lord, children a reward from Him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are sons born in one's youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. They will not be put to shame when they contend with enemies at the gate." - Psalm 127:3-5
After we found out we were unexpectedly pregnant, Robbie and I laughed and said it was due to my grandfather's dying wish (that and my dad's ridiculous plea for grandchildren disguised as a wedding speech for those who remember). So, the first time Annabelle was put in my arms after she was born, I looked at her face and for some reason something in those little eyes and eyebrows looked like my Grandpa John. What a sweet reminder. As I said, gone but not forgotten. There's a little bit of all our grandparents, parents, and us in this little girl. So, whether it's a good thing or a bad thing, Robbie and I will always have little Dutch (and German, Polish, and Irish) babies.
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